Love means
by Hikari no Donya
Summary: [[Shonen-ai, Yuriy x Boris. Cursing, sexual reference.]] Love means never having to say you're sorry. And Boris is never sorry.


**Author: **Hikari Donya

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairings: **Yuriy x Boris, mentioned Kai x Rei

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bakuten Shoot Beyblade

**Notes: **Ja pwns me. Damn you for inspiration. I really should be in college, but alas, I have skipped for the fourth day in a row, and so here I am, writing. Not that it's a bad thing, really.

I love Boris and Yuriy's relationship. It's so… amusing.

Oh, I nicked both Boris and Yuriy's middle names from my Yami, hope she doesn't mind. I don't think either have one. I just needed them to emphasise stuff. Heh, I know my Grandma likes to use my full name when trying to get an important point across.

**Love means…**

* * *

It was another normal day. He had woken at dawn, eaten his breakfast, trained for a while, waltzed back in at lunch time, eaten lunch, and sat down to watch some television. It was the same routine, day in, day out, ever since the whole BEGA fiasco had come to an end.

It was another normal day, and it was boring him to tears.

"Hey, Boris? Have you seen my-"

"No." He pressed down on the channel up button, flicking to a not-so-interesting documentary on the mating rituals of tigers. '_I get enough about that from Hiwatari, I do not need to know any more.' _He pressed the button once more.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"True." Boris yawned, and reclined in the chair, chucking the remote down next to him. He would have to settle for cartoons, though he was not particularly fond of them.

"So how can you answer me, when you don't know what the question is?"

"Quite easily." He ran a hand through his lilac locks, and sighed.

"You're such a grouch, Boris."

Boris smirked. "I know."

"Argh," Yuriy said in frustration. "Could you please answer me with more than two words! It's so annoying!"

"Yes." Boris laughed as he heard the red-haired male mutter profanities under his breath. "Less of the language, Yuriy."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole!" Yuriy hit him across the head with the magazine he had been carrying. "So do you know where my hair gel is?"

Silence.

Boris seemed very interested in the little green man on the television, who had proceeded to change into different animals. How that would be possible, he could not even begin to comprehend. Yuriy waited for a reply, for what seemed like an age, and then growled in annoyance.

"Will you answer me!"

Boris rolled his eyes mockingly. "You told me to _shut the fuck up, asshole. _And I quote directly. So I did."

"For the love of- I didn't mean it literally." Yuriy leant over the back of the sofa, his hair falling in front of his face.

"I know."

Yuriy clenched his fists. "Y-you are so infuriating!"

"You don't say?" Boris let his eyes drift to Yuriy's silky, red locks, framing his face, and brushing the tops of his shoulders. He blinked, and averted his attention back to the television.

"I will hit you, Boris, so help me I will."

"I'd like to see you tr- Ow! What the fuck was that for!" Boris rubbed the side of his head, which had been graced with a tinge of pain.

"You were seriously pissing me off, _sweetie. _Now, where the fuck is my hair gel?"

"How the hell should I know? It's your bloody gel." Boris frowned, and shifted a little further away from his Captain, for fear of being hit again.

"You're the only other person who lives here, and I didn't move it. So, by matter of deduction, you must have moved it. So where the hell is my hair gel?"

Silence.

Yuriy could feel his blood boiling, as he got angrier with his lavender haired lover. He wanted to know where his gel was, for the simple reason that he looked awful. The jumper he had grabbed from the drawer as he came out of the shower was too big, and slipping off one shoulder, and his trousers were riding low, showing a little to much ass for his liking. He looked a mess.

"I'll ask you for the last time, Boris Demitri Kyznetsov, where is my hair gel?"

Boris sighed. "And I'll answer you for the last time, Yuriy Alexis Ivanov. I. Do. Not. Know." He chanced a look at Yuriy, and did he ever look molestable.

Yuriy screamed. "Then where the fuck is my hair gel! I don't think it grew legs and walked away!"

"I don't think it did either."

"One more smart remark from you an-"

Boris grabbed Yuriy's wrist, and pulled him over the back of the couch. He landed none too gracefully on Boris' lap, and somehow managed to get into a straddling position. Boris smirked, and pulled the red-head closed to him. He brushed tendrils of soft crimson away from Yuriy's face, and licked his ear.

"Do you know how much I want to fuck you right now?" He whispered huskily, his breath tickling the shell. Yuriy shuddered.

"That sure is a change of-" He gasped as once of Boris' hands found it's way under his jumper, and the other playing with his hair. "Of attitude."

Boris kissed Yuriy's neck, tracing his lips across the pale skin. Up. Along the lower part of his face. Up. So that his forehead rested against the wolf's own. "I love the way you look today." His callous fingers brushed across a nipple, and Yuriy moaned in reply. "You should dress like this more often."

"I-I just want my hair gel."

Fingers embedded into the strands and angled Yuriy's face. "I much prefer it like this." Boris captured Yuriy's mouth in a furious kiss, tongue darting past the slightly parted lips, and exploring. His own tongue teasing his lover's, deepening the kiss, and heightening the passion.

As Yuriy's clothes started to disappear, and his eyes cloud with passion, the last coherent thought that he had was – '_Sod the damn hair gel.'_

* * *

Yuriy shifted in Boris' arms, his skin sticky from sweat, and other things. "Eurgh, I feel stiff."

Boris laughed. "Don't you always?"

"Shut up, you bloody perv." Yuriy gave a half arsed attempt at a thwack, and gave up, pushing himself to his feet. "Where did you chuck my jumper."

Boris shrugged, and pointed behind him. "That way, somewhere."

Yuriy walked in the direction Boris had pointed in, and lifted his jumper off the lamp. "Nice aim."

"Heh, I _aim _to please each and every time."

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it." Yuriy pulled his jumper on. "Argh, my hair is going to be hell to brush through now! Why couldn't you just tell me where my gel was?"

"Because you look sexier with it down."

Yuriy jumped, but regretted it instantly. "Ow… So you admit that you know where my hair gel is!"

Boris chuckled. "You know, as well as I do, that I did it."

"I curse you." He threw the comment over his shoulder. "Where?"

"Kitchen cupboard, next to the stain remover."

"Was that supposed to have some kind of symbolism, or what?"

Boris shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I guessed that it would be the last place you would look."

"You're probably right. When was the last time I went in that cupboard." Yuriy ran his fingers though his now messed up hair, and sighed.

"Don't know. Just… don't go and get it, please? I want you to wear your hair down from now on."

"W-well… alright." Yuriy let his hand fall to his side, and whined. "But look at the mess it's in."

"I'm not sorry."

Yuriy snorted. "You wouldn't be."

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

"Asshole."

Yuriy walked out of the room. Boris smiled, and stood up. He loved getting his own way.

* * *

Ende.

Eheh, I hope you all liked. I wanted to portray their relationship as something light hearted, amusing almost. I hope I got that across. Until next time.

**Hikari Don xxx**


End file.
